


The One Where They Go to a Music Festival

by FauxFidele



Category: American Gods (TV), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Casual Marijuana Use, Chilton Being an Asshole, First Kiss, Happy Ending, I mean they are at a music festival after all, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Will is friends with Shadow because I said so, crack and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 08:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10963644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele
Summary: AU: Will and Hannibal are millennials, and end up going to a music festival together.Warning: Expect the usual music festival elements, like marijuana use and mentions of excessive drinking.





	The One Where They Go to a Music Festival

**Author's Note:**

> I spit this out in about 24 hours, so ALL THE THANKS to @llewcie for the last-minute beta (and encouragement!) As such, all mistakes/inconsistencies are my own. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and thank you to each and every person who reads this ridiculousness. 
> 
> -Emily

Hannibal stared down at his phone. Strands of hair stuck out through his fingers as he palmed his face, groaning out a loud sigh.

The screen lit up again and the desk vibrated, rattling the small jar of change nearby.

          “ _Please come with. Everyone else is boring_.”

His lips fought with every muscle, twisting in restraint to keep from smiling. No one else could have talked to him into this, this nightmarish display of banality.

But Will Graham, it seemed, possessed a strange pull over Hannibal. As a teaching assistant, his former student of sorts had captured his attention on the first day of class. Will took to staying late after he’d failed his first exam, but he seemed to thrive in the personalized setting of his office. They'd spent so much time studying at office hours that Will soared to the top of the class. But still the visits continued, more frequently if anything.

In class, Will mostly slept, with his lost-puppy looking curls covering his face. But in Hannibal's office, Will opened up quickly, sometimes rambling way past their appointment times. He'd never taken care to stop him, of course, and after their last appointment of the semester, Will had promised to keep pestering him.

" _Please do_ ,” Hannibal had said then, with an idiotic smile. He regretted those words now, as his thumbs navigated the quick response into his phone.

          “ _Alright, fine_.”

Immediately he saw the ellipses that indicated that Will was typing. A warmth tingled in his belly, realizing that Will had been waiting for Hannibal’s answer, and when his phone vibrated back he burst into an ear to ear smile at the belligerent spew of celebratory emojis that followed.

          " _Promise we’ll have fun. I got tix and supplies. Pick you up at 8_.”

Hannibal leered miserably at the screen, trying not to grin at the multiple texts that followed. Sunglasses emoji. Thumbs up emoji. Sun emoji. Guitar emoji. He snorted, trying to hold in his laughter at the cigarette and beer emojis. Music note emoji.

 _Fuck_ , he thought idly, relaxing into his couch. He was going to a music festival.

***

Will arrived at exactly 8:42am. Hannibal had been awake since 6am, having already showered, dressed, prepared lunch for the day, and cycled through his laundry.

Will had done none of those things, arriving with hair a mess and shoes missing, cargo shorts a little wrinkled. He hadn’t shaved in a week, a dark scruff covering his lip and jawline. At least his shirt was on the right way, Hannibal mused. A cotton henley, broad green stripes alternating between the white. For himself, Hannibal had chosen a lightweight button-down shirt, royal blue, and a pressed pair of khakis, and suddenly wondered how out of sorts he’d feel amidst the tie-dye and bandanas he’d come to associate as traditional festival attire.

He looked down skeptically at Will’s bare feet, and he smiled back lazily at Hannibal. “They’re in the car,” he answered with a shrug. “Oh, wear comfortable shoes,” he added, nudging Hannibal’s side with an elbow. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and they stepped away from each other hastily, Hannibal off to his room to grab sneakers in lieu of the sandals he’d originally planned to wear.

When they got in the car, Hannibal watched Will grab a pair of Doc Martens from his back seat and slip them on over a pair of clean socks. “Sunglasses?” Will asked him, climbing into the front. He grabbed them from his pocket and produced them for Will’s approval. “How could I forget? You sent me ten different emojis to remind me.” Hannibal snorted out a single, uncouth laugh and Will felt his cheeks growing hot at the sudden attention. He looked away quickly to the floor, still smiling, and started up the vehicle.

They took Will’s old Mazda; a modest, unpretentious thing, roughly ten years old, Hannibal guessed. He’d offered to drive his BMW, but Will reminded him that various parking adventures they might incur could be possibly better suited for a less scrupulous vehicle. He very much agreed.

Though Hannibal had already eaten breakfast, Will hadn’t eaten anything so they stopped at a little diner down the road. After an hour of devouring two plates of food, Will drug them to store, as he’d yet to actually acquire any supplies. They’d spent an additional hour plodding around the aisles for sunscreen, beach towels, and upon Will’s insistence, all variations of tissues and portable wet napkins. Not that Hannibal minded; he was happy to take any kind of delay in their schedule if it meant less time in that God-forsaken cesspool of privileged rich kids. He shivered, already dreading it.

Something hit him in the face. A black, nylon pouch sat in his lap, and Will was giggling from the driver’s seat of the car. “Strap it around your waist,” he said, explaining.

Hannibal stared blankly back at Will, slowly lifting his eyebrows.

“Oh, _please_ ,” Will said with a groan, rolling his eyes. “Too cool?” His eyes glinted brightly as his lips parted into a wide smile, watching Hannibal for a reaction.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered curtly, averting his eyes, trying not to let the smile breach.

When Will scoffed, Hannibal let out an abrupt laugh, relaxing back into the headrest. “At least I'm honest.” Will sighed heavily, smiling, and began to drive.

***

The drive was peaceful, nearly two hours of highway and interstate separated them from the festival, but the time flew by as Will and Hannibal bantered back and forth. When they reached the little town in the middle of nowhere, people appeared suddenly; droves of young people in brightly colored attire, all heading in the same direction, bouncing with an enthusiastic energy in their step, the anticipation buzzing around them. When Will finally found a grassy nook to squeeze the car into, they began the long march to the festival grounds.

When they reached the gate, Will paused to take in Hannibal, eyeing him up and down. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but Will couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “Wristband,” he said, offering it from his pocket. Hannibal watched appreciatively as he put out his right hand and Will slipped it over his fingers, just barely touching skin, and secured it to his wrist.

Hannibal tested it, tugging on the tails of the wristband. “Thank you, Will.” Suddenly he couldn’t stop smiling, either. “Alright, let’s go!” Without thinking, Will let his own fingers grab Hannibal’s wrist and pulled him toward the gate.

***

“Some friends of mine are already here,” Will explained, leading them around the festival. He was rambling a bit about his friends, as well as explaining the bands they could see, but Hannibal’s attention was tuning in and out. He was distracted by the abundant opportunities to people-watch. University-aged students were everywhere, mostly congregating in groups of ten or more. Some gathered on the ground with mounds of blankets and inflatable cushions, many just sprawled out atop the grass. The smell of marijuana stung his nostrils, coming from multiple directions.

It was only mid-afternoon, but Hannibal had already seen three people that were passed out on the ground, one with a puddle of drool that had formed on the sidewalk underneath him. Another that appeared ahead of them had an oversized, and very empty, plastic tumbler with some kind of cheap alcohol logo gripped between his fingers. Darwinism at work, he figured, as he had to step over the limp body to get around it.

“They're at the McNugget Stage,” Will said absently, maybe to himself, as he turned to ensure that Hannibal was still following him. Of course they are, Hannibal grumbled to himself, annoyed at the irony of the corporate sponsorships that flooded every direction of his view. The opportunity for witty critique was so strong that Hannibal found himself wishing he'd brought a notebook to record all the insults that currently ran through his head.

“Hannibal?” Will was looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes. Will stood in front of three people, all staring at him, apparently waiting for a response.

He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. He hated to be rude. “My apologies,” he said, acknowledging each new person with a nod. Two beautiful, fresh-faced women with long flowing curls stood on either side of a very tall, and very handsome young man.

Will smiled a bit nervously, eyes shifting back and forth between Hannibal and his friends. “Guys, this is … Hannibal. My. Friend --”

He froze, and the panic in his eyes must have been at least palpable enough to Hannibal, who interjected. “His friend from Criminal Psychology, actually,” he transitioned smoothly, “we studied together. Nice to meet you …”

The handsome man leaned in first, taking his hand, shaking it firmly. “Shadow.” (Hannibal added another rude insult to his list, because, of course his name was Shadow.)

“My girlfriend, Laura,” he continued, and the blonder of the girls waved to him with a sweet smile. Hannibal couldn’t help but return it in kind.

“And this is our friend, Alana,” Will said, finally remembering how to speak. The darker haired girl stepped forward, extending her hand. “Hannnnnnnibal,” she said, enunciating it as if she was thinking about each letter. “I love it.”

“Thank you,” he responded dryly, not exactly sure if it was a compliment or not.

Alana placed her items on the ground and approached Will, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you came, Will,” she said, loudly whispering into his shoulder. Hannibal noticed he seemed to reciprocate the affection, squeezing her back.

Oh, _fuck._  Hannibal’s mind went into a tailspin. This entire time he’d believed this had been a date of sorts; he’d been sure Will was interested. But watching them hug, noticing the way Alana’s eyes grew big when she looked at Will, lashes fluttering … and he didn’t seem to mind. _Fuck, Hannibal_ , what if you’re the _wingman_?

“Will Graham,” said a voice behind them, and for the first time since he’d been there, the girls’ faces fell from smiles into scowls. Shadow took a deep breath, rolling his eyes.

Will stuck out his lip, making a pathetic frown as he turned around to face the source. Frederick Chilton stood in front of him, clad in possibly the most ridiculous piece of clothing Will had ever seen.

“Frederick, are you wearing a fucking romper?” Will’s mouth was parted, as if he couldn’t really grasp the reality of the moment. “With fucking butterflies on it?”

Chilton rolled his eyes dramatically. “They’re _bees_ ,” he snapped. “It’s haute couture, you vulgarian. And it’s Gucci.”

Shadow and Laura made polite small talk with him for a bit while Hannibal’s thoughts drifted. For a brief and horrifying moment, Hannibal thought Will had brought him here to fix up with this ornamental festival elf, Frederick. Just as he’d planned every aspect of his escape, from a breach in the fence to the $500 taxi ride home, Will grabbed him by the sleeve, tugging him in.

“I swear to you, we are NOT friends,” he whispered, allowing Hannibal to sigh out a long, breath of relief.

While Chilton was occupied with Laura, Will continued the story in a low voice, so only Hannibal could hear. “He accused our entire history class of plagiarism this semester. Said he was hacked, and we’d stolen it and that his family was going to sue each and every student as well as the university.”   

“Was it true? Was he hacked?” Will hesitated, making a shifty face. Hannibal tried not to laugh too loud, but the mischief written on Will’s face nearly caused him a fit of giggling. “You did!”

“ _Shhh_!” Will tugged Hannibal close, making shush noises at him, suppressing his own laughter as well. “Did not! We just sent him some anonymous emails, telling him what a great writer he was. Hopefully no one was using his email to steal all his writing. Etcetera.”

They heard Shadow clear his throat loudly, multiple times, and looked up to see him begging for help with his eyes. Chilton was still rambling about his awful, neon-blue bee onesie. Alana had joined Laura back at her side once again, and they whispered back and forth, trying to avoid Frederick’s radius of conversation, and poor Shadow had been stuck by default.

“Frederick,” Will said, intercepting his attention. He spun around to face him, pulling his glasses down the bridge of his nose so he could peer over top of them. “Yes … Will.”

“DJ Crack-Knife is playing soon at the Mercedes dance tent. Go save us a good spot in the front.” Chilton peered at him as if he didn’t like taking orders, but he started walking that direction anyways. “I could use a good dance,” he said over his shoulder, as he stepped into the crowd and blended away.

“I am so sorry about him,” Will said, shaking his head. “How did he even find us?”

Shadow turned his head to Laura, narrowing his eyes. “Stalking her Instagram, I’m sure.” Laura stuck her tongue out, making a grossed out face. “You know I can’t block him!”

“Like hell you can’t!” Shadow said, his mouth twitching up into amusement as he looked down at her. She went up on her tiptoes and pulled Shadow down to her so she could kiss his cheek. “Okay, I do like that you’re too nice,” he conceded.

“I blocked him a year ago,” Alana said proudly, making Will and Hannibal both laugh. “First day I met him, actually,” she added, shrugging her shoulders. “Sometimes you just know.”

“So, DJ Crack-Knife?” Hannibal asked, turning to Will with a rather miserable look on his face. Will burst out into laughter. “I just made that up to give Frederick something to do. It sounded like something he would listen to.”

Alana and Will continued giggling about Frederick’s absurd taste while Shadow and Laura spread their giant blanket out across the grass where they’d decided to rest. Laura spread smaller blankets over the larger one, obviously having done this many times before. Alana was the first to plop down on her spot, and sure enough, Will sat down quickly beside her. The urge to run once again tickled at Hannibal’s insides.

Will patted the open spot to his other side, grinning at Hannibal. “Sit with me?” His normally blueish eyes looked almost clear in the reflection of the bright sun, and his cheeks were already pink from the heat.

Hannibal nodded, taking a seat, while the others discussed their favorite songs from the upcoming musician. “I hope they play ‘ _Koala Iceberg'_ ,” Laura mused, making Alana shriek with excitement, pawing at her friend’s arm. “Me, too! I love that one.”

Shadow opened his backpack, sitting on the far end of Laura. He rummaged around the little pockets until he pulled out a small bag, containing yet a smaller bag. Laura’s eyes grew wide as he opened it and she and Alana both giggled as Shadow handed them a joint.

As if they thought hadn’t occurred to him before, Will turned to Hannibal suddenly. “Are … do you want to?” He asked, his voice suddenly higher than it was before, if not a little shaky. Alana took a long, suck from the end and held it in like someone who’d done it many times before, letting the smoke slip past her lips in a long exhale. She handed it to Will.

Hannibal was not accustomed to sharing his vices with anyone, let alone with someone new. Multiple someones. In a very public display. He shook his head. “Please, feel free,” he said, trying to smile enough so that he seemed authentic. “Perhaps a little later, for me.”

Will put the burning cigarette to his lips, breathing in the smoke, the end burning down with a bright orange glow. He studied the joint as he exhaled, maybe appreciating it, before offering it one more time to Hannibal who shook his head once again. The girls continued to smoke, down until the flaky paper nub, giggling and laughing at everyone (and everything) that walked by.

The band came on soon after, and Will was happy to be glued to his seat for the duration of the performance. Alana and Laura had gone on a hunt for snacks, coming back with Funnel Cake and Bud Light. Hannibal realized he would eventually need to smoke if he wanted to enjoy any of the food here, or maybe anything at all.

When the band ended, Will and Alana were smoking another joint, so Hannibal got up to stretch his legs. “How’s your first festival?” asked a familiar voice. Hannibal closed his eyes, allowing the irritation to properly sink in. Chilton.

He smiled politely, turning to face a sweaty Chilton, romper splashed with damp spots, a newly-acquired lime green bandana wrapped around his head. He tilted his head to the side, taking in all of Frederick. “It has been entertaining,” he answered, finally.

“I figured it was,” Chilton said smugly, crossing his arms. “Your first festival.”

“Mmm hmm,” Hannibal returned, utterly uninterested. “How was DJ Crack-Knife?”

“Hot,” Frederick replied. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of him ... ”

Hannibal grinned discreetly, eyes seeking out Will, who was still listening to Alana ramble about something that made her tone grow louder and much more serious. Climate change. Investments into solar energy. Genetically engineered food products, perhaps.

“Did you hear me?” Chilton asked.

Hannibal turned back to him. “Sorry?”

“Why are you here with _Will Graham_ of all people?” Chilton lowered his head so Hannibal could see the ridiculous eyebrow that he raised to embellish the question. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed in on Frederick as he continued to explain. “I mean, look at your watch. Automatic, Italian designer, Swiss movement. Easily twelve grand.” He smirked as if he’d cornered Hannibal like a rat.

“So, I ask again. Why. Will Graham?”

Chilton’s proximity suddenly felt invasive, and Hannibal felt the urge to push him the fuck away. But he didn’t. He swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath.

“Because I fucking like him.”

Chilton scoffed dismissively. "I suspect that you're better than that --”

Hannibal didn’t find out if he’d actually been finished with his sentence or not because in that moment he thrust his palms against Frederick’s chest and pushed him hard enough that he fell back against the ground, shouting out for dramatic effect.

Will jumped up, rushing to Hannibal’s side. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes full of confusion.

Chilton whined from the ground, becoming infuriated. “Is _HE_ okay? HE pushed _ME_!” His tone was incredulous.   
  
Embarrassed, and partly afraid he might kick Frederick in the face, Hannibal took off into the crowd, heading in any other direction than that one. _Fuck! What a disaster_ , Hannibal thought. Not just the wingman, but a total fuckup with his friends, too. Well, this is what he had prepared for, anyways. Time to activate the escape plan.  

***

Will didn't lose sight of Hannibal, not even for a moment. He weaved and elbowed his way through the crowd as if his life depended on it, making sure that he could always spot his bright blue shirt from the rest of the crowd. He did allow Hannibal the space, however, letting him walk off his frustration as he stayed well behind, hidden among the people.

Hannibal was walking furiously, not really entirely sure yet where he was in relationship to the front. But he was thirsty, so he detoured into a line for beverages. A small picture of a Bud Light can was glued onto a posterboard. ‘$12’, written by hand out to its side. Hannibal blinked and read it again. _Twelve dollars_ …

“What’s up, man?” A young caucasian man with long, blonde dreadlocks was addressing him from behind the counter. “What do you want?”

Hannibal approached the stand. “Water.”

“That’s eight bucks,” said the rent-a-bartender, grabbing the bottle of water from a cooler.

He looked back with skepticism. “Eight … dollars?”

“Or you can drink from the port-o-lets?” he suggested unhelpfully, smile dripping with sarcasm.

Eyeing him through narrowed slits, Hannibal handed him a ten dollar bill. When the dreadlocked youth shoved the water and change across the counter, Hannibal grabbed them and dangled the single bills over the tip jar by the tips of his fingers before snatching them up into his palm and flicking him off. The un-bartender shook his head and reciprocated the gesture.

Hannibal was too irritated to drink his eight-dollar-water and he tucked it under his arm and made his way toward the front gate, remembering to the best of his knowledge. When he slowed to finally take a sip of water, he felt something take hold of his elbow.

“ _Hannibal_?” Will used the softest touch to get his attention, and used the same effect in the tone of his voice. He could hardly be irritated with him; after all, none of this had been Will’s fault. He exhaled sharply.

“I’m sorry, Will,” he said, eyes looking off into the distance. “I’m not good at these things, it seems, and I’ve nearly ruined your day. If I leave you can still have the rest of the evening with your friends --”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of the evening with my friends.”

Will had yet to release his elbow and he realized that the fingers had been making their way down his forearm, now attempting to thread into Hannibal’s, which he allowed, squeezing back gently. (Was he breathing too loud? Why was he suddenly aware of the volume of his breathing?)

“I thought if I left, you could at least stay with Alana,” he admitted.

Will looked confused. “Alana? I brought you, Hannibal. Because I wanted to be here," he said, voice becoming more fragile, "... with you.” He looked slowly to Hannibal, peering up through his lashes: wanton, and sincere.

Hannibal pulled him by the hand to a more private spot, under the shade of a small tree. “We don’t have to stay,” Will started to offer, but before he could finish, Hannibal shut him up by pressing their lips together in a gentle, if not entirely too-brief a gesture. Both were still smiling and buzzing as Hannibal pulled them apart. “I want to stay.”

“Good,” Will said, his face hurting from the intensity of his smile. He held up his finger and reached into his pockets, digging for something. “Did you want to smoke?” He asked meekly, producing the required components. Hannibal grinned, grabbing the joint from Will, playfully, and fidgeted a bit with the end before lighting it and taking a long, skillful drag. As he exhaled, he smiled with a little pride at catching Will very obviously off-guard.

“How has that innocent act worked for you in the past?” Will asked, half of his mouth curled up into a grin. He took a hit as Hannibal passed it over to him.

“Surprisingly well.” Hannibal and Will both grinned, Will looking a little like he was holding back something. “What is it?” Hannibal asked him.

He was still grinning, but acting coy. “It’s stupid.”

Hannibal took a hand through Will’s hair, brushing some of the tangles from his forehead so that he could see his eyes better. “It’s not stupid,” he said, unable to ignore the furious shade of red that Will had turned under his touch.   

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Will asked, unsure of himself.

Hannibal took the cigarette from Will and took another deep inhale, letting it burn his lungs and fill his head, making it spin as it worked its way into his system. He looked at Will, so sweet and pure. Not even mad at him for nearly murdering his friend. He was like a true angel out here in the rough, a true diamond amidst the inundation of coal-tainted …

“Hannibal,” Will interrupted. “You've been staring blankly for like, three minutes. Ready to go?”

“No.”

“You're not ready to go?”

Hannibal giggled. “No, I can't promise not to laugh.” Will rolled his eyes with pleasure, joining in his laughter.

“Come on, you.” Will tugged Hannibal in the opposite direction. He had something in mind.

***

“It's _so_ lame,” Will whined, blushing for the hundredth time.

Hannibal was still making boyish giggles instead of words when he spoke. “It isn't,” he managed, in an odd, high-pitched tone that came out from trying to suppress the laughter.

They stood in front of the Ferris wheel, circling round, the sun setting just behind it. One of the most popular bands was poised to start at any moment, so the attractions were largely abandoned, and no one was waiting in line.

“We don't have to,” Will said, feet dragging heavily. Hannibal took Will’s hand in his own, and guided him toward the bored cashier that operated the machine. He peered up at them lazily and pushed a button to temporarily halt it, and opened the metal gate with a creak.

“Enjoy,” he said, without much enthusiasm.

Will took a seat on one of the metal benches, rocking back and forth a little to test its weight. Then he looked at Hannibal and patted the seat next to him. “Next to me?”

“Could be dangerous,” Hannibal said, partially kidding, although his relationship with heights was neutral at best, and he wasn't typically keen on aerial endeavors. But one look at Will’s hopeful expression and his decision was made.

As quickly as he sat into the metal, grooved seat, Will leaned his head against Hannibal's shoulder. He pulled him in tight, enjoying the warmth against his chest, the smell of Will’s hair as he dipped his head lower to breathe it in fully. The festival lights mixed with the sunset, reflecting rainbows of color against Will’s skin. He watched the lights flicker and jump, dancing about in the dark head of curls at his breast.

“You smell good,” Will blurted randomly.

Hannibal pressed a kiss into the top of his head, smiling through it. “You're lovely.”

Will turned his head so he could look at Hannibal, and made a dismissive face. “You're high.”

The Ferris wheel turned and stopped, occasionally allowing people to get on and off. Will and Hannibal had gone for three turns, and a line had formed down below. They pretended not to notice.

Hannibal was absently running a hand through Will’s hair, both staring off at the horizon where the sun was setting, admiring it. “It's not so bad, right?” Will looked up at him, red lips flushed and turned up into the most perfect smile Hannibal had ever seen.

“I can see the appeal,” he said in a low voice, stroking a finger against Will’s cheek. He tipped his chin toward him and leaned in, this time kissing Will the way he'd always wanted to. Will turned into the kiss, placing a stabilizing hand on Hannibal's cheek as their lips explored, parting to let their tongues become better acquainted.

At some point they became vaguely aware of a loud whooping from beneath them, but when they finally separated and looked down, they were both mortified to realize the whooping was directed at them. A loud group of neon-clad party-goers were clapping for them and shouting. A girl appeared sloppily from the side of the seat above them. “LOVE IS LOVE,” she shout-slurred with a cheer.

Though Will was embarrassed, having Hannibal with him somehow alleviated the humiliation that normally accompanied public attention. When they reached the bottom, they left their cart, hand in hand, leaving through a crowd of supportive onlookers. Neither could stop themselves from smiling.

***

They made their way back to the others, Hannibal insistent upon apologizing for his earlier behavior. When they arrived, Alana surprised him with a giant hug, squeezing him like a long-lost classmate. “Hannnnibal,” she said, drawing out his name. “Our hero!” She laughed, and squeezed him again.

Hannibal was confused. Perhaps it was the echo from the band playing in the background or the day’s exhaustion, but they seemed to be genuinely happy to see him. Alana hung to his neck. “You saved us from Chilton!”

Laura appeared at Hannibal’s other side, making Will raise a skeptical, possibly jealous eyebrow toward him. She spoke softly. “I'm sorry about Frederick, from before.” Hannibal shrugged it off with a pleasant smile. “I'm afraid he's rather in love with Will, who's far too oblivious to realize it.”

Hannibal's eyes widened in real surprise. How had he not seen it?

“I'm sorry to have lost my temper,” Hannibal said, so that all the group could hear.

Shadow scoffed, laughing it off. “Frederick gets punched nearly every day. Usually it’s Will that chases him off since he's got a knack for getting under his skin.” Laura made an I-told-you-so face at Hannibal.

“Frederick is NOT in love with me,” Will groaned miserably.

“He is, I'm afraid,” Hannibal chimed in needlessly, getting quite a laugh from his friends. Alana wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, despite him playfully trying to wriggle free. “I like him,” she whispered quietly, eyes traveling to Hannibal.

Will smiled. “Me, too.”

They relaxed for the rest of the night, back against the sheets, stars above them, the music swirling in the atmosphere between them. By the end of the evening, Hannibal had lost his shirt (though so had Alana), and his hair was as wind-blown as Will’s, strands sticking out in all directions. People were winding down for the evening, and Will and Hannibal both knew they'd have to leave soon. Still, they lay, intertwined and starry-eyed, until their friends had to practically roll them off their blankets.

As they walked back to the car, Will smiled to himself, as he held onto Hannibal’s hand like it was essential for breathing.

“See? We had fun,” he mused aloud.  
  
Hannibal laughed gruffly, squeezing Will’s hand. “Thank you, Will. I certainly won't forget it.”  
  
***

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY CRAP 5,000 words just came from nowhere. I'm sorry for making Hannigram go to a music festival, but I hope, at least, it made some of you smile!


End file.
